


Sun Fades The Day

by zenelly



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Happy Ending, I swear it ends happily, Implied Suicide Attempt, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Threesome - M/M/M, there's just the presence of the reagent and all that nonsense lurking around the back too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-13 09:19:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12980976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zenelly/pseuds/zenelly
Summary: Once, Jord thinks Aimeric would have flushed, pleased to find Jord's eyes on him. Once, Jord would have known what emotions Aimeric's expression hides, would have thought the wide eyes and bitten lips meant Jord should continue looking. Now, though, he can't be sure.Now, Jord forces himself to look away.





	Sun Fades The Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [desastrista](https://archiveofourown.org/users/desastrista/gifts).



> Man the warnings for this make it seem really bad, but more or less those are there because the Reagent and Aimeric were still a thing and the fallout from that went the way of the books only Jord stopped it in time.
> 
> But anyway! This is for the Captive Prince Secret Santa exchange! I got entry number 8 and I wrote Jord/Aimeric/Nikandros for a coffeeshop AU prompt they left! My notes for this when I was plotting said that it should be short and sweet and happy, and I missed the first one, clipped the second (bittersweet counts right?), and at least skidded into the third because I can't stand unhappy endings, so that counts right?
> 
> Still, I hope you all enjoy! I couldn't go into as much depth with this as I would've liked (but that would've been about another 50k of development and there's a limit to what I can feasibly accomplish), but I still think it's a pretty good read regardless.
> 
> Title is from "The Empty Bottle" by Archive

Jord doesn’t notice at first, which he absolutely blames on it being too damn early for this kind of shit.

He steps up to the register and places his order without even looking at the board. He could probably go back behind the counter and make it faster than it would take to order, to take the card from his hands and run it through, but Laurent has a tendency to get really pissed off at people other than him breaking the rules. And Jord likes his job enough to not want to get fired from it for making himself a coffee on his day off. He needs it for his date, because he and Nik are heading out hiking today, but he doesn't need it that badly.

But when Jord finishes rubbing his eyes and actually bothers looking up, he sees.

A flash of burnished hair, pulled back, curling just the slightest bit at the ends, haphazardly tucked behind the shell of an ear that Jord knows is soft, that Jord knows has two freckles on the lobe. Pale, smooth skin, determined eyes.

Jord sees Aimeric.

He knows what being behind the counter of a coffee shop is like. Especially the demand and rigor of the early morning rush for one so close to both a college campus and a large business complex. More, now, and faster; you have only two hands to carry out five orders all at once and you have to keep them straight. He knows he can’t, shouldn’t, expect anything. He doesn’t even think Aimeric sees him. Not really. Maybe in the blur of faces, Aimeric sees a customer who is vaguely familiar, but he’s busy enough to disregard it until he’s setting the drink on the counter. Aimeric opens his mouth, glances at the cup.

Freezes.

“Jord,” Aimeric says, startled. And then he looks up. _Really_ looks up, blue eyes darting here and there across the crowd and-

There.

They catch on Jord as he steps forward, and he flushes hot and cold, a wash of both embarrassment and panic, confusing twists of regret and anger still twinned inside of him. An inescapable net of feeling that stalls his hands, chokes out his voice.

Aimeric swallows, the bob of his throat visible. Lifts his chin the way he always does when he’s being stubborn and proud and says, “Jord. Your vanilla bean frappucino.”

(He always did think that his face was much harder to read than it truly is.)

Jord doesn't know what he says. He doesn't remember anything other than getting the drink and making a run for the door as fast as is socially acceptable. When he makes it to the car, Nik asks if he's alright, and Jord can't stop the semi-hysterical bite of bitter laughter that escapes him. He manages, finally, to say, “Can we talk about it after our date? I really. Don't want to think about it right now.”

Nik is silent for a moment. Then a large, warm hand pats his thigh and stays, steady, comfortable. “We can do that.”

Damn it, this is exactly why he doesn't stop by his workplace on his days off.

 

* * *

 

“You hired Aimeric again?”

Laurent’s head lolls back, lazy, as he regards the sheets of paper in his hands without even bothering to look at Jord, fuming in his doorway. Of course, but of all the times Jord needs Laurent to be distant, this isn't one. It only stokes his fury higher, and the casual indolence in Laurent's voice is aggravating on Jord's best days. “Call me a masochist, but someone thought he might have meant it when he apologized this time. Trial basis only, of course. I’ve been inspired to the heights of generosity, not foolishness. One wrong move and he's out.”

“Laurent,” Jord says.

“Jord.”

He doesn't know how to continue. His mouth opens, closes, as he casts about the office for something to look at, as though seeing something there will help him come up with an argument, a reason that he and Aimeric shouldn't be near each other at all. That isn't “I loved him and he left me when he tried to kill himself because of the hostile takeover between you and your uncle where he almost set this shop on _fire_ , and I still don't know how to forgive you for that except I've already done it.”

Finally, he says only, “I can't do this, Laurent.”

Laurent sighs, and Jord's gaze is drawn back to him, compelled, almost. Laurent has that way about him, and he does look almost regretful. As much as a marble statue can emote, that is. It would be easier to fight Laurent if it was physically possible to tear your eyes away from him. “Jord, I understand your reservations. Believe me. I understand. But this is the right choice to make.”

“I don't understand how you can trust him again. I guess an old soldier's habits die hard.”

“Then tell them to die faster,” Laurent says, heartless, but Jord hears the thread of fondness weaving through it.

It's not quite enough to soothe the sting, but that is that. Once Laurent has made up his mind, Jord knows there is no talking him out of it. He nods. Clenches his jaw. “Yes, sir.”

“One thing, Jord,” Laurent says as Jord leaves. Jord turns and holds a too-blue gaze, Laurent's eyes piercing. But it seems as though he changes his mind, looking away, and what he says almost certaintly isn't what he called out for at first. “If you find yourself tempted to tumble him into the coffee grounds again, please ensure you refrain. I don't want to have to lose you like that again. I'll see you tomorrow.”

Jord tries to not let the tide of hurt and shame spur the anger that's still roiling in him. He gets nothing by lashing out at Laurent. As he exits, Damen comes in. He smiles at Jord in the easy, affable way he has, the way that has earned him Laurent's love and Nikandros's trust. Jord knows that the smile he gives in return is sickly in comparison. It nets him a concerned look as Damen disappears into Laurent's office.

And then, faintly, he hears, “Wait, you hadn't _t_ _old_ him? Laurent-”

Then he hears no more.

Jord lifts his face to the sky and breathes in and in and in, like it can steady the stutter of his heart and he can't help but be let down when it doesn't.

 

* * *

 

The next day is a special kind of hell. Jord almost wishes he hadn't come in the day before, but he can only imagine how poorly he would have handled it if he had been blindsided by Aimeric's presence.

He jolts every time he sees Aimeric in his periphery as it is. Aimeric works hard as he always has, driven to prove himself useful and capable. That, at least, is familiar. In that, Jord can be assured that Aimeric is essentially unchanged.

Because aside from that singular point, he's very changed. The pull of his shoulders is more vulnerable, shakier; his chin still held high but with so much more uncertainty than before. He's quiet, subdued, where before he would be pointed, picking little fights here and there that were only sometimes playful. He doesn't smile back to the customers with the same ease. He doesn't joke with Jord or Orlant or any of the other workers. Jord wants to smooth his hand down the tense line of Aimeric's back. He knows, intimately, the way Aimeric would shiver and then relax, arching his neck the slightest amount so Jord could press his lips to its delicate curve.

Aimeric sees him watching. Once, Jord thinks Aimeric would have flushed, pleased to find Jord's eyes on him. Once, Jord would have known what emotions Aimeric's expression hides, would have thought the wide eyes and bitten lips meant Jord should continue looking. Now, though, he can't be sure.

Now, Jord forces himself to look away.

Aimeric adjusts his long sleeves, too heavy even for the early fall air, and goes back to taking orders from customers.

 

* * *

 

“Babe,” Nikandros asks, “what's up? You've been a bit weird this last week or so.”

Jord lowers his face to Nik's broad shoulder, closing his eyes. Damn it. It had to be obvious. Of course it did. Mouth dry, he licks his lips. Finally, he offers two words, like they can sum up the turmoil in his mind. “Aimeric's back.”

He can remember the soft smell of Aimeric’s hair like it was yesterday, like Jord hasn’t fallen asleep holding the sweatshirt Aimeric wore until it was more his than Jord’s more nights than he cares to remember, like he wasn’t left, devastated and alone in the wreckage of their relationship, in the middle of Laurent’s corporate take-over. He can remember running his hand up Aimeric’s smooth skin, feeling the catch of his callouses and marveling at the difference. He can remember how he loved, and the spark-catch of mirrored emotions in Aimeric’s face that must have just been a lie, except for how earnestly he expressed them.

He can remember so much.

(He wishes he couldn’t. It would be easier, he thinks, if looking at Aimeric didn’t twist him up in regret and desire in turns.)

“Are you going to be alright?” Nikandros asks, and Jord wishes he knew.

“This shit is complicated, Nik,” he groans, rolling to press his face into his boyfriend’s shoulder. “Why is it always so complicated?”

Nik, because he’s great and the best and Jord is an actual piece of shit, rubs his back with just the right amount of nails to turn Jord into a little puddle. “Shit is always complicated. Think about it like this: we aren’t Laurent and Damen.”

Jord turns this over. “That’s true.”

“I will say though, if you kiss him, we're having a really long talk about it,” Nik says, his other hand carding through Jord's short-shorn hair. He digs the pads of his fingers in just the way Jord likes. Again, best.

“I know.” Jord closes his eyes. “I know.”

 

* * *

 

After... After Aimeric left _Coffee de Vere_ the first time (and what a mild word, _left_ ,) Jord was reeling from the combination of watching his job almost literally go up in flames and losing one of the first serious relationships he'd ever had. The coffee shop settled out. It had no other choice with Laurent's iron grip manning the helm, especially coupled with the steadying influence of Damen. Jord knew enough details of what happened between Laurent and his uncle to only be glad that he didn't know more, but that didn't solve his heartache.

Nothing ever would.

Until Nikandros appeared in the coffeeshop, swearing up a blue streak at Damen for forgetting to order something and leaving it all on Nik to handle, and-

Saw Jord. Grinned, lopsided and charming, leaning across the counter to flirt outrageously.

And Jord, hurting and wholly unused to attention like this, found himself flirting back.

Over the course of several weeks, Nik came into the shop most mornings that Jord worked, always flirting if there was even an ounce of time, always enough to be absolutely serious, and well. Jord doesn't have the kind of face that gets flirted with. Laurent, Aimeric, Nicaise when he drops by the shop until Laurent or Damen hisses out a comment about his age even. They're the pretty ones. Jord has a … serviceable face. It does him well. But the way Nik looks at him, when Nik himself could probably make a career off looking good in pictures...

It sets something sweet and molten in Jord's stomach, and he wants that.

So when Nik asked him out, Jord only thought of Aimeric for a single, aching moment before he said yes.

(Aimeric had, after all, made it very clear what he actually thought of Jord. A convenient scape-goat to get the keys for the shop. A stepping stone to be used as he tried to earn the love of a-

He can't think about it. It leaves him sick when he considers it. Sick and sad and standing outside the hospital with flowers crumpling beneath his clenched hands as he asks one of the nurses at the desk to deliver them anonymously, because Jord just _can't_.)

 

* * *

 

Working with Aimeric again is less of a heartache than he expected.

Sometimes it is. Sometimes, Jord will turn just a bit too fast and find Aimeric right there beneath his chin again, face tilted sweetly up in shock and Jord has to fight the muscle-memory of dropping a quick kiss on the tip of his nose. Sometimes, Aimeric will lay a hand on Jord's back and it will burn like fire, setting a slow rumble through Jord's veins until it's all he can think about, and it's only the twisted-uncertain look on Aimeric's face that keeps Jord from snapping.

Aimeric is hurting too.

He reminds himself of this. Jord is not the only one who doesn't quite know how to navigate the space between them anymore. It's better, though, when they're at the shop. These moments are like flashes, happening in suspended seconds before the clamor and bustle of the store catches them back up again.

 

* * *

 

“Babe!”

Smiling, Jord turns to see Nik for just a second before he's bombarded with kisses, hugged into a broad chest, and he's laughing as he pushes off. “Nik, what are you doing here? I thought you got off later?”

“Early day,” Nik says with an easy shrug. Then checks his watch and winces. “Well, relatively speaking, anyway. Off at nine instead of midnight. Thought I'd come by and see my best guy while I was out, since I'd have to wait a whole two hours to see him otherwise.”

“A whole two hours?” Jord parrots, fond as he pushes some of Nik's curls off his forehead. “What a crime.”

“I know, it's awful.”

Jord turns, still smiling, and-

It's like running face first into a door. Startling, painful, hugely embarrassing.

Across the counter, Aimeric watches, his pale eyes widened only the barest amount. Jord almost wants to explain, but there is no way to rationalize away Nik's hand on his waist the way it is, the familiar kiss bestowed upon his cheek, and moreover, there is no reason to rationalize in the first place. The realization is a bucket of cold water on Jord. He has no reason to pretend to Aimeric that he and Nik aren't dating. His stomach clenches, regret and something more, and he almost reaches out.

But Aimeric turns before he can even shift his weight, and Jord stops himself after one aborted step.

“I'll see you later, babe?” Nik asks, quiet, and Jord nods. He turns, before Nik can leave, and leans up to kiss him on the mouth, gentle and reassuring, and he's glad he did when Nikandros smiles at him, a shutter in his eyes opening again.

“Dinner tonight?” Jord proposes, wanting to be near and wanting that comfort and wanting to chase the lingering shadows from Nik's eyes. “I can get pizza.”

Nik laughs, kisses Jord. “What a charmer. But yes, that sounds great.”

“I'll text you when I'm on my way.”

And Nik leaves with a fond wave and the promise to meet up again later. Jord turns. Aimeric is wiping down his station behind the counter with the kind of focus most people turn to nuclear weaponry or active bombs. And Laurent, damn it, is looking between the two of them with no small amount of interest. He must have come out of his office just in time to see all of that.

“Alright, then if that's all,” Laurent says, swooping down and nabbing the jangle of keys from the counter, “I'm heading off. I've been promised dinner, and I refuse to waste anymore time around here with you.”

“Laurent,” Jord starts, alarmed.

But it's too late. “Lock the door when you finish cleaning!” Laurent is out the door with a flash of golden hair and Jord is left alone.

Alone with Aimeric.

It's only a mild consolation that Aimeric looks as wild around the eyes as Jord feels.

After just a moment of silence, they both turn to cleaning as a way to avoid looking at each other. The space between them is charged, the heavy gravity that comes from circling an inevitable conversation.

“So, that's your boyfriend?” Aimeric tries, too casual. He winces.

Jord nods. “Nikandros. We've been dating for a couple of months now.”

“That's... good. I'm happy for you.” He couldn't sound less happy, like he's chewing on gravel, and when he laughs, it's short and self-deprecating and Jord wishes his damn emotions would make up their mind about how to feel. All he wants to do is gather Aimeric in his arms. All he wants to do is leave now and let the tide of “How dare you act like you still own my heart” carry him to Nik.

All he wants....

Jord sighs. “Thanks.”

Silence falls between them, thick and heavy the way it never was before. Before, things had always been warm and syrupy, a haze of fairy-tale endings coloring everything because Jord never thought he'd be lucky enough to garner the attention of someone so attractive, someone he liked the way he liked Aimeric. He should've known. When something seems too good to be true, it probably just _is_.

He watches Aimeric. Doesn't mean to, but does it anyway, and the damp hems of Aimeric's long shirtsleeves catch his attention. Jord looks back at the counter in front of him.

“I don't regret it,” Jord says, because his mouth has decided to act without input from his brain.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Aimeric's hands slow, still, on the counter. Jord focuses on his own rag, wiping careful, wide circles as he cleans his station. Finally, though, his voice cuts through the low background hum. “What do you mean?”

Jord chances a look over. Aimeric watches him back, guarded, and the guard only gets higher when Jord can't stop his eyes from dropping to Aimeric's wrists. His words are steady as he says, “Calling the cops. I don't regret it.”

“I...” Aimeric's mouth opens, closes, as though he's trying to figure out what to say. Finally, he laughs, a short, bitter sound. He shakes his head, bracing himself against the counter. “I... don't say that. Don't _fucking_ say that, Jord.”

“Aimeric-”

“I don't want to hear it. This isn't about you being glad or anything like that. I didn't come back here because I thought you'd be _grateful_ ,” he says with a bite, his beautiful face drawn up in anger, brows firm. “There was nowhere else for me to go.”

“I didn't-” Jord cuts himself off, letting out a heavy sigh. He pinches the bridge between his eyes. “I meant, I'm glad you're here still. That you're still trying, even when. Even when everything was against you. If there's anything more I can do-”

“I think you've done enough,” Aimeric says.

Then, very quietly, “For what it's worth, I'm learning to be grateful too.”

 

* * *

 

“Are you sure?” Jord asks.

Nik nods, rubbing his thumb in a gentle circle across the back of Jord's hand. “I've thought about it, and I'm sure. If it's what you want, if it's what _he_ wants, I'm open to trying.”

“Okay,” Jord says, and he lifts Nik's hand up to kiss it gently. “Okay, if it ever comes up. I'll remember that.”

 

* * *

 

Things ease. Like leather giving way to something worn and comfortable, Jord and Aimeric refind their footing around each other as the months grow colder. They survive the Black Friday rush, and when Jord surfaces from a long week, his face pressed into the curve of Nik's chest, he realizes that he hadn't felt uncomfortable around Aimeric at all that day. (This is a warning. He should have kept feeling uncomfortable. Discomfort is the body's way of being wary of things that hurt you, and flirting with fire is only a sure way to get burned.)

Instead, Aimeric quips at him, quiet jokes that aren't as pointed and deliberately turned to aggravate as they were before, but the gentler ones seen between them. Something shared. Aimeric, letting him in again, into the ruins of their torched relationship.

“You know,” Aimeric says under his breath as he writes something down on the cup, “for the longest time, I thought an upside-down caramel macchiato was something made up.”

Jord huffs out a laugh, helpless. “How long...?”

Aimeric bites his lower lip, the way he does when he's holding back laughter. A flush, explained away by the heat of the machines or exertion but almost certainly just plain old embarrassment, crawls up the back of his neck and across his cheeks. “Just before … just before I left.”

“ _Aimeric_.”

“I know! But now I'll never forget.”

Jord laughs. He can't stop it, can't stop the soft hurt, like poking a healing bruise, washing over him, because this is....

This is what he missed.

When he looks up, Aimeric is watching him with a curious little smile lurking in the corner of his mouth and Jord's heart slams suddenly against the confines of his ribcage. He turns away, shying from the eye contact like a startled horse, and beside him, Aimeric gets back to work.

 

* * *

 

The simplest thing brings it to a head.

Jord and Aimeric are just simply too close to each other. The storeroom is just a bit narrow, and Jord had ducked back here to get a new bag of beans and Aimeric had come to get a new rag, and somehow, some way, they ended up chest to chest as they turned and the world slowed. Aimeric's burnished hair is just as gorgeous as Jord remembers up close, and his eyes dart to Jord's mouth for the barest second before he looks up. Jord's heartbeat is thrumming heavily in his veins, and he swallows, wanting so much to sway into Aimeric's space just a little more.

“Jord,” he breathes, like the word is everything.

The electric tension between them is unbearable, pulling them close but not close enough. Jord can feel Aimeric's breath on his face, a tease of the pressure he could have. When he speaks, his voice is wrecked. “Aimeric, I-”

This is what Aimeric does to him. Love isn't supposed to happen like this. Desire like this is for the movies. The grand, agonizing swell of it that feels like it could tear you apart if you breathe wrong, but here Jord is. Here he is again, but this time, he feels anchored. This time, Jord feels safe knowing that he'll survive the loss of this. This can't destroy him.

“Aren't you dating someone?” Aimeric asks, his voice soft.

It's the same tone that he used to ask if them kissing in the back room was a good idea. Then, Jord got to crowd him against the wall and kiss him until Aimeric was laughing and pliable, pinkened with pleasure before allowing them to go back out to the main floor. Now, Jord swallows roughly. This close, he swears he can catch the faint hints of Aimeric's favorite cologne. He reaches out.

Smoothes his thumb against Aimeric's freckled ear-lobe, the rest of his hand dipping behind the soft column of Aimeric's neck.

A hand on his chest.

“I'm not about to be someone's two bits on the side.” Hard. A solid line, there, pushing Jord back, and he goes.

Jord goes, but lets his hand linger and meets Aimeric's gaze firmly as he says, “I want you to meet Nik.”

Aimeric's mouth twists. “I've met him.”

“No, Aimeric, please. I want you two to talk. There's something... I want us _three_ to talk.”

For a long moment, Jord doesn't think it's going to work.

And then, “Alright.”

 

* * *

 

Nikandros only raises an eyebrow when he finds Aimeric and Jord both at his door that afternoon, and Jord blames his lack of reaction entirely on Damen. He's sure that Nikandros, having been friends with Damen throughout the entirety of their lives and _especially_ the Jokaste and Laurent episodes, has already dealt with enough overblown romantic bullshit that he's just unsurprised by everything. He lets Aimeric in, tilts his head curiously at Jord, accepts the kiss he's given before he goes and sits on his ridiculously comfortable couch.

“So what did you want to say here?” Aimeric says, arms crossed over his chest, defensive. He hasn't sat yet, too on-guard and off-center. “What is it that I need to talk to Nik about, because if it's all going to be about how you two are perfect for each other, I can-

Jord takes a deep breath. Steps forward into Aimeric's space. “I'd like to date you.”

Aimeric's eyes dart to Nik, startled.

Nik grins, roguish and handsome, his lower lip dipping slightly lower on the right side than the left. “We talked about it,” he says. “I have no trouble with polyamory. I'm not going to just give him up just because you showed back up again, but you're interesting and I like you, so if you're willing to give it a chance, I have more than enough love to go around. It'll take a lot of communication, but we, _I_ , am more than okay with trying. I can be as involved in this as you'd like me to be, but. You're pretty cute. We should absolutely try a date or two, see how it fits.”

“Jord?” Wondering, confused, but so hopeful, and Jord nods.

“He's telling the truth. I'd like to date you, and I'd late to keep dating Nik. I still. I still like you. I know things ended badly, but-”

“There were a lot of extraneous circumstances,” Aimeric blurts out, fingers grasping for purchase in Jord's shirt. “I wasn't- I didn't think clearly, then. I'm.” Lower, his voice softening. “I missed you. I... want to try again.”

“Really?”

Aimeric's eyes dart to Nik, and this time he lets them linger, appreciative. Then back to Jord, and the expression on him is cracked-open, vulnerable, and this time, when Jord slides his hand back to cup the nape of his neck, he does not step away. Instead, he just rests his weight trustingly in Jord's hands. “Yes, really. With...” and he darts that appreciative look at Nik again. “With both of you, if that's alright.”

Nik grins salaciously. “Oh sweetheart, that's more than alright.”

And there's no reason to not kiss him, so Jord does. It's just like he remembers, with Aimeric opening for him sweetly, eager to please and to be pleased, arching his whole body into Jord's so they're pressed together from lips to thighs. Aimeric shifts back with a wet gasp.

“Can I...?” He trails off, looking hopefully at Nik.

Nik wastes no time pulling him forward, letting Aimeric arrange himself across Nik's thighs before he surges up. Aimeric holds himself like he expects the kiss to be harsh, but relaxes the moment he realizes it's soft. Nik kisses like an avalanche, starting slow until you hardly realize you're being consumed, and. Jord likes watching it from the outside almost as much as he likes being the focus of that singular attention. Nik slides a hand up Aimeric's thigh, pushing his shorts up as he goes, and Jord's blood runs hot at the sheer difference in size between the two. Aimeric so slight and Nik so broad, his hand dark against Aimeric's skin.

Then Aimeric looks over his shoulder, an uncertain smile tilting his reddened lips. “Are you just going to watch?”

And Jord, eager, goes, presses his mouth to the curve of Aimeric's neck as he slides him behind him. He leans forward, kisses Nik while Aimeric is pressed between them, making low, gasping noises as they rock together, and Jord pulls back to find Aimeric watching them with no small amount of interest.

“Are we going a bit fast?” Jord asks.

Aimeric's full mouth quirks up. “I don't mind if you don't. Nik?”

“Personally, I think we should keep this to heavy make-outs and then go for dinner somewhere,” Nik says as he nips at Aimeric's throat, sucking a deep red mark there. He pulls back to admire his handiwork, grinning. “But that's just me.”

Aimeric nods, leaning down to catch Nik's mouth with his own. “Sounds good to me.”

“Yeah, me too,” Jord breathes. And Aimeric and Nik both turn to him, share a look, before bearing him down onto the couch. Jord is trapped between them, Aimeric's lithe body between his thighs, with Nik, solid and steady, at his back. He gulps. He can _feel_ Nik smile, and see it mirrored in Aimeric's face. “Oh no. What are you-”

“What, indeed,” Nik murmurs nonsensically, as he and Aimeric go on a double-pronged attack of Jord's body.

He's still aching with unfulfilled desire when they go get food. The server tries to be subtle about checking out the marks on his throat, but fails really bad. It just makes Jord's face heat up, embarrassment and pleasure and more filling him from the inside out, and that only solidifies when Aimeric loops their ankles together, when Nik throws an arm around his shoulder, when Nik and Aimeric hold hands across the table.

It feels real and good and molten-sweet, and Jord wonders if this, too, is too good to be wholly true.

(He certainly hopes not.)

 


End file.
